presents itself in a morbid and joyless form. This is so precisely the condition exemplified in the greater number of melancholy patients, that we can scarcely imagine it merely copied from observation, and feel inclined to refer the eloquent description to some painful experience of the great poet himself; to some period of Shakspeare's life, to adopt a not improbable conjecture of Mr. Hallam, "when his heart was ill at ease, and ill content with the world or his own conscience." GUIL. My lord, we were sent for. HAM. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery of your secrecy to the king and queen. Moult no feather. I have of late (but, wherefore, I know not,) lost all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercises; and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you,—this brave o'erhanging firmamentthis majestical roof fretted with golden fire-why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. The disposition of Hamlet, here so exemplified, to ascend from common remarks to reflections above and beyond them, and which, too exalted for ordinary talk, find their natural expression in soliloquy, creates one of the peculiarities that render the satisfactory representation of the character on the stage so difficult. To depict action or passion verbally is easier than to convey the workings of meditation. In the words just quoted, familiar in the school-days of most English readers, we find fuller meanings revealed to us in after years. The current of Hamlet's discourse flows on, deep and powerful, to subjects scarcely to be fully appreciated except by the physiologist, or by those most habitually observant of the beings who make up the crowd of life. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving, how express and admirable ! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! In these few sentences are happily comprehended great ideas, dressed in clear and simple words, touching on not a few of the distinctive excellences of man's structure and attributes;-the complicated and exquisite provision for graceful movement and for the outward manifestation of diversified human sentiments; the imagination which overleaps the common limits of sensorial impressions; the goodness in action, rivalling angelic nature; the wisdom which elevates man above all animals and constitutes him the most dignified work beheld in all the visible world, connecting him even with what is heavenly and god-like. These thoughts are uttered by Hamlet from the depths of his soul; they have often been reflected upon by him; but now they are troubled by the heaviness of his disposition, he cannot recall them with his former fervour and in their former brightness, and to him even man is but the quintessence of dust. Whilst pursuing these reflections he sees a smile on the face of Rosencrantz, to which his vagrant attention turns. He has said · that "man delights not him ;" and seeing the equivocal smile, he adds No, nor woman neither; though, by your smiling, you seem to say so. Ros. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts. HAM. Why did you laugh, then, when I said "Man delights not me?" $ Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you; we coted them on the way; and hither are they coming, to offer you service. : And thus a new subject is introduced, to which Hamlet's attention is as zealously turned; and from which arise in his mind new projects, that long divert his thoughts. The arrival of the players brings with it many pleasant associations, evidently for a time salutary to him and the temporary effect of this change of thought resembles what so often arises from change of scene and circumstances. The mind, relieved from habitual pressure, is for a time exercised rationally, and those inexperienced in the phases of mental movements declare a cure. Hamlet has a lively interest in dramatic representations, and a critical knowledge of the principles which ought to govern the stage and the actors. Moreover, the players themselves are his old acquaintances, and with their advent comes the memory of careless days and merry hours. For a time he forgets the accursed realities which now surround his fate, and returns to the ideal world more congenial to him. Before the players enter, he addresses Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in conciliatory language, and welcomes them to Elsinore; for although now employed to examine and try his capacity, they are yet his old friends, and were his companions in youth. But he does not omit to affirm that his unclefather and his aunt-mother are deceived, and that he is but mad north-north-west. With the entrance of Polonius, Hamlet's gibes commence again, as usual: Polonius comes to announce the players; and the prince draws his friends on each side of him to tell them in a mysterious whisper that the great baby they see there is not out of his swathing clouts; and he goes on talking wildly with the prolix lord, interrupting him in a dissertation on the many merits of the players with an idle exclamation, coloured, however, with those troubled thoughts which the presence of Polonius never fails to bring back to him. POL. The actors are come hither, my lord. POL. Upon mine honour,— HAM. Then came each actor on his ass, POL. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, |